"Course it ain't," maintained the little negro pantingly, "ain't my back beginning to ache, an' my arms get lame, an' mah hands burn like fire? Golly! You white chillens sho' don't use no logic or reason. Maybe you ain't holdin' back hard enough to feel hit, but I'se sho' getting de strain, not dis pesky ole bridge." "Well, you will not have to bear it much longer," Charley grinned. "Don't you notice that the strain is getting weaker all the time? He's a monster, but he's evidently swallowed the hook clean down, and that's why he is giving up so fast. We'll have the best of him in a few minutes." The lad's prophecy proved true, for, long before the end of the line was reached, the fish began circling in ever-narrowing circles until, at last, the two boys were able to tow it up slowly to the shore. "Golly!" exclaimed Chris, as the fish's huge bulk came into view. "Dat's de biggest an' ugliest fish I ever catched. What is hit, anyway?" Charley glanced down at the short, thick, black body and the huge, gasping, red mouth. "It's a Jew fish," he announced. "I guess it weighs about 800 pounds, but that's not so very much, when you consider that they sometimes grow to weigh over 1,800. Unlike most big fish, however, they are very good eating. Wind up the fish line, and then cut out some good big steaks. They will make dandy fish balls and chowder. While you're doing that, I'll run up to the village and tell everyone to come down and help themselves, then I'll bring the launch around from the dock and pick you up." Soon after his departure the villagers began to arrive in twos and threes, but not before Chris had cut out several fine steaks from the huge fish. By the time he wound up his line, washed the steaks carefully and strung them upon a piece of cocoanut fiber, Charley hove in sight in a little motor boat. He ran up as close as he dared to the shore and stopped his engine. "Hurry up and climb aboard," he called, "we want to get back to camp before dark." Chris waded out, treading gingerly with bare feet over the oyster shells that strewed the bottom. "Hurry up," laughed Charley, "your feet are too tough to be hurt by oyster shells." The little darkey grinned as he clambered aboard. "Dat ain't de point," he protested. "I was reckoning dat some ob dem oysters might be alive, an' I sho' would have hated to crush de life out ob dem." Charley threw over the wheel and started up the motor, and the little boat, whirling around, darted away for the distant point with its two snow-white tents. A few minutes' run brought them close to it, and Charley steered round into a cove, to avoid the tide wash, and ran the boat up on the shore. The anchor was taken out and imbedded in the sand. The motor was covered and everything made snug for the night. Then the two boys strolled forward with their burdens for the tents.